Chapter 6
Now, it was Stan’s turn to be up to his eyeballs in chaos. With all hell breaking loose, he sure as hell didn’t have a spare second to go chasing after Geneva.
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Meanwhile, Geneva scored a fake ID with some fast cash and crashed at a hotel across from the library.
She turned into a bookworm overnight, hitting the shelves to suss out the science of this dimension and brainstorm what kind of tech she could cook up.
Conrad Bailey, a physics PhD student with a nerdy obsession for aircraft carriers, was practically married to the library.
Lately, he kept spotting Geneva camped out by the window. She was a total stunner, with eyes that shone like stars on a clear night.
But good grief, she was colder than a polar vortex–always snatching a book, plopping down, and glaring at it like it personally offended her.
Conrad was pretty sure she was either a cyborg or just permanently
over it.
One day, he grabbed his books and slid into the seat across from her, thinking he’d shoot his shot.
Before he could even drop a “what’s up,” she iced him out. “Don’t talk to me. Don’t even breathe my way.”
Conrad scoffed under his breath, ‘Gorgeous, sure, but you’re serving major attitude.‘
He clammed up, stealing a glance at her book. ‘Hardcore physics? No way she’s decoding that,‘ he thought.
Even for a guy like him, raised on formulas and blueprints, those books were a beast. Still, not his drama. He buried himself in his notes.
A bit later, he needed another book and stepped away. When he got back, his heart sank like a stone.
His draft paper–hours of blood, sweat, and tears sketching carrier internals–was a hot mess, scribbled over in blue ink. The same blue as the pen chilling next to Miss Freeze.
Fury lit him up as he shot a glare at Geneva, who was already grabbing her stuff to bolt. “Hey, you seriously messed with my draft?”
She nodded, calm as a freaking cucumber.
“What the hell?” he shouted. “You can’t just trash my work! I busted my ass for weeks to get those carrier parts perfect, and you turn it into your personal doodle pad? That’s my life’s work you wrecked!”
This wasn’t some random sketch he’d whipped up. It was a hardcore assignment from his grandpa, one he’d slaved over, digging through stacks of research to nail every last detail of an aircraft carrier’s insides. And now? Total disaster.
Even if Geneva looked like she stepped out of a dream, it didn’t douse the rage blazing through him.
Geneva didn’t even flinch. She just leaned back, her voice cool as ice. “No offense, dude, but your drawings? Total crap.”
She couldn’t deal with watching Conrad flounder over something so basic. Okay, maybe she’d poked her nose where it didn’t belong, but still.
Her smug attitude made Conrad’s blood boil. “Who does this girl think she is?‘ he fumed. ‘Calling my work crap? She’s, like, barely old enough to drink! What does she know about this?‘
Then Geneva threw him a sly grin. “Oh, and by the way? I didn’t touch your precious paper. Here’s yours.”
She flicked his draft back at him, hugged her borrowed book, and strutted out like she owned the place.
Conrad stood there, jaw half–open. She was right–he hadn’t messed with his work. She’d used a whole different sheet.
He glanced between the two papers, and his gut twisted. His drawing looked like a kindergartner’s doodle next to hers.
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He couldn’t peel his eyes off Geneva’s sketch. The more he stared, the more his stomach churned. Her aircraft carrier wasn’t just better–it was insane.
Parts of it were so next–level, he couldn’t even wrap his brain around them. They were light–years beyond his pay grade.
In a panic, Conrad snapped a pic of her drawing and shot it to his grandpa. [Grandpa, you gotta check this out.]
His phone buzzed minutes later. Chad Bailey’s voice was all business. “Get home. Now.”
When Conrad walked through the door, Chad’s steely glare stopped him dead. “Grandpa, what’s up?”
“Where the hell did you get this blueprint?” Chad snapped. He knew his grandson’s limits, and this was way past them.
The design was pure perfection, so far ahead of the world’s top carrier tech it was almost alien. One glance, and Chad could feel the earth–shaking impact it’d have if it ever got built.
Seeing his grandpa so shook, Conrad spilled the whole story. He’d never have guessed that girl–that random, cocky girl–was some kind of freaking genius.
Chad didn’t waste a single second. He grabbed those blueprints and hauled himself to the research institute, where a team of eggheads burned through days and nights tearing them apart.
What they uncovered was so insane it shot straight to the top dogs in charge.
The big shots didn’t hold back. “Find this girl, no matter what it costs! We can’t let a brain like hers rot in the shadows.”
But Geneva? She was a ghost. Never set foot in the library again after that day. Tabitha kept blowing up her phone, crowing about the shiny new crap Stan was showering her with, how Barclay was basically a baby Einstein, and how Rocky and Salena were practically kissing her feet. She’d always slip in a fake–sweet zinger at the end: [The Motley crew’s all about family, sis. If you’d just stuck around and felt the vibe, you might not have ended up in the loony bin.]
Geneva didn’t even bother rolling her eyes. She had bigger things cooking. Her online order of tech supplies had just dropped, and she’d set up camp in a rundown factory way out in the sticks.
Her mission? Build a badass robot for the tech expo coming up in a month–a glitzy, high–stakes showdown backed by the country’s tech heavyweights, streamed live for the whole world to gawk at.
Geneva wasn’t just aiming to win; she was out to steal the show, to make “Geneva” a name that’d echo through history as the queen of tech. This expo was her launchpad to turn the original Geneva’s dreams into reality
By the time her robot was ready, her 2.5–million–dollar piggy bank was running on fumes.
With the leftover scraps, she cobbled together a mask so freaky it’d make her own mom do a double–take.
Then, with her robot slung in a bag, she strutted into the convention center like she owned the place.
She rolled up to the registration desk, signed in as “GM,” and plopped down in the crowd to scope out the competition. It wasn’t long before the host gave her the signal to prep.
She slipped backstage, mask locked in place, and when she stepped into the spotlight, the crowd went wild.
That spooky mask had everyone whispering, and the host tossed out a few slick one–liners to keep things light before passing her the stage.
The judges, though, weren’t feeling it. Geneva was standing there with nothing but a bag, and one of them piped up, “Uh, hella? Where’s your project, kid?”
Cool as a cucumber, Geneva pulled out a clunky metal slab, barely bigger than an old flip phone. “Right here,” she said. “Foldable robot. Easy to cany, and its big deal? Keeping you safe, 24/7.”
The four wert quiet, then straight–up awkward. Nobody was buying that a young chick like her could whip up something that slick–especially not a
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Chapter 6
gadget that looked like a doorstop.
The host, trying to keep it polite, leaned in. “Hey, sweetheart, you sure you’re at the right gig? This ain’t a cosplay contest.”
This was a cutthroat tech throwdown, not some TikTok prank.
Geneva didn’t even flinch. “Oh, I’m right where I belong. I’m here to walk away with that first place plaque.”
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The judges swapped looks, probably wondering if she was trolling. ‘Who just comes out swinging like that? Where is the humble “just thrilled to be here”
bit?‘
The host, half–convinced she was off her rocker, started inching toward her to nudge her offstage when a yell came from the crew, “The livestream’s popping off! Comments are hitting all–time highs! Let her stay!”
The internet was losing its mind. [Bruh, that mask is giving straight–up horror movie energy. She’s turning this geek fest into a slasher flick!]
[I’m here to walk away with first place‘–girl’s got some serious balls, lol!]
[She’s kinda cute, ngl. I’m rooting for her!]
[Ugh, another wannabe thinking she’s hot shit. Bet her sugar daddy built that robot. Can’t wait to watch her flop!]
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